Hell's Sovereign
by Malachite Rain
Summary: When hell knocks on your door, what do you do? In Overlord Norn's case, it is break the door in and find the one responsible for the racket. But perhaps he has found an opponent more than he can handle? Overlord challenge fic, challenge details inside. Expect many OC's as the Overlord universe is rather barren of proper characters.
1. Hell's Wrath

**Hello! Hello, everybody! Welcome to Hell's Sovereign, an Overlord fic based on a challenge by Storylover213 who had contacted me in April. I decided to take up the challenge, but I will not focus so much on this fic; especially when I start writing the Domination Anew sequel.**

**Expect harem, some smut. There will be no Yaoi or Slash, so says the challenge.**

**The whole fic will go from Raising Hell to Overlord II.**

**R&amp;R and enjoy!**

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Hell's Sovereign

Chapter 1

Hell's Wrath

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned...It was an apt saying when you are married, as Norn is. There is nothing in the world, this plane or the other, that is more terrifying than Rose when she is angry. The entire tower would shake from the force of her shouts; minions ran for the hills and Gnarl's scales were slick with sweat profusely leaking from hidden pores. Even the Minion Master feared something equally as he fears his Overlord's tenuous trust after the return of the first Overlord.

Back to the saying, Norn found little resistance coming from this particular hellish plane's denizens. Horrible, dessicated creatures of almost solid evil and malice. Their bleached-white eye sockets glowed with unearthly white glow. Rusted armor draped with black cloth hangs around their decrepit frames. When Norn and his loyal minions found them first, they wandered aimlessly through the plains of a twisted version of Mellow hills. Norn's greatsword cleaved through them with ease, as if they weighed nothing, and perhaps they are weightless? This dimension seems to copy most of the world it is connected to, but does it copy the rules, too? Plains of blood-red grass and crevices full of molten magma dotted the once-idylic landscape.

The entire region was either burning, twisting or in the process of being consumed by magma. Corpses of farmers and people were frequent, most of them charred into statues, though some were still alive, barely, while nailed into the twisted trees or being tortured by halflings. Norn cursed the day he would have to see those wretched little creatures again after he had nearly wiped them out, effectively forcing the small-statured race into hiding. At least he found immense pleasure in sending his minions like bloodthirsty hounds at them. He had even let Bob, the farmer who has bad history with halflings since the beginning, go free after rescuing him yet again. But a shock came in the form of Melvin Underbelly.

The morbidly obese halfling was somehow still alive, and still eating. Its sickening corpulence was ensconced in a twisted version of a halfling home. With irony that didn't evade Norn, the halfling was force-fed until he exploded, and then came back to life to begin the process anew. The explosions were so immense, and so disgusting, that Norn had actually found a use for the obese monster.

Gnarl and Rose gave helpful advice in where to use Melvin's particular 'gift'. For a volcanic region, it was almost absent of any explosive substances. And explosives were most certainly needed as Norn had to go through many obstacles that neither him nor his minions could destroy. It was merry slaughter and horror all the way until Norn kicked the halfling king into a pit like a ball where he would be stuck forever if Norn has anything to say about it.

There was a thick gate, its function to keep whatever's behind it contained, that needed to be open after going down this rather pointless path of slaughter. Norn still enjoyed a good massacre or two, but all of this insanity might as well boil down to some logical reason like it always has. A simple cursory expedition grew into a full-fledged conquest. The hellish plane seems to serve a function, and the explanation hides behind that gate.

After some searching, the minions found a large lever and turned it, opening the gate. It opened to a long path in the shape of a volcanic crevice. At the end of it was a statue of blackest stone, fashioned into a horned skull. In size, it resembled a standard health stone. Gnarl had come to the conclusion that the stone was, in fact, the key to controlling this particular plane. As if sensing that something was a miss, wraiths dug out of the ground and collectively attacked, as if someone was leading them. Despite their numbers, Norn and his minions wiped them out. Just before bringing the stone home, and solidifying Norn's rule of this plane, peasants attacked in an attempt to destory the stone, calling it accursed and an abomonation. Norn couldn't bother to participate in the ensuing slaughter, and after that, brought the stone home. Also the minions found a mould for some type of axe.

After a well-deserved rest, Norn was disturbed by a report of yet another similar passage into yet another hellish plane. But this time it opened up in Evernight Forest, at the spot where Oberon's corpse decays still. He would have settled for the Mellow Hills copy to sprung by mere chance, but a copy of Evernight Forest was troubling.

With his arcanite armor donned yet again and his most elite minions at his side, Norn bid the portal of the Tower to transport him to the nearest point from where Oberon was slain. A large collumn of energy parted the gloom and doom of the marshy forest, around it coiled bone-like structures in a similar shape as the Portals back to the Tower. A small group of elves observed the unusual occurence with intense dislike. Some moaned in despair of seeing yet another abomination attack their already desecrated wood, while others remained silent and contemplative, as a dead, incroporeal being could be.

"It is not from this world, the energy feels...different." one of the elves spoke more to himself than others. The group nodded in agreement, but quickly stopped when they sensed their latest desecrator approach. Norn hadn't expected to be greeted by the dead, and they didn't, the only thing he got were uninterested glances and hateful glares from the more passionate ghosts.

"Why must you continue to desecrate these woods? Have we not suffered enough?" one of the ghosts spoke. Norn stopped to look at the obvious demonstration of primordial power. "What manner of demonic powers have you obtained now?"

Norn looked at the offending ghost with amusement, and enjoyed to see the ghost's jaw grind visibly. "Do not accuse, elf, those far above you. This is not my doing, unfortunately. If it was, there would be nothing left of your precious little forest."

The elf fell silent, though still maintained a heated glare. He could stare all he wanted, as far as Norn was concerned. But beneath his confident and powerful visage creeped worry and doubt. This is the first time he felt he might not be up to the challenge after fighting his predecessor. To breach barriers between world was a considerable power, and whomever, or whatever that posesses it can't be anything short of a god-like being. He started towards the collumn of energy, the elves floated aside reluctantly, and stepped into the vortex.

The winds that lashed at him suddenly stopped as he found himself in a small clearing surrounded by coiled bushes with thorns the size of his arms. The stones that litter the clearing are small spikes and twisted into strange wicked shapes. The smell of smoke permated the air and the forest seems to be in a state of permanent dusk. There was also an actual ceiling comprised of winding branches and brambles high above them. The trees around the clearing looked to have been twisted by evil and tortured. Their bark was burnt or rotten, just underneath were swarms of hungry insects Norn didn't wish to see.

From behind the small minion horde of four dozen minions appeared, cackling and cooing at the new and deliciously evil environment. Sady, Norn couldn't join in on their wonder of another land to conquesr as his gut twisted in on itself by worry. Maybe Mellow Hills was as far as he could get, surely the ruler of this domain has noticed his presence. A being that holds sway in a dimension such as this is certainly not forgiving and welcoming entity.

Something moved amidst the trees. It didn't look human, but more like a huge black spot in the orange-hued distance. Norn tightened his grip around the handle of his trusty Arcanite Greatsword that has felled swaths of enemies. Now even more alert, he noticed a distinct lack of sound. There was no noise whatsoever. None of the chirping, buzzing and wooshing that one could hear when in a forest. In fact, everything was still with no life whatsoever.

Off in the distance, Norn spotted a structure of somekind, but was too far to figure out what it is. He figured this was the place where the Abyss stone is to be found. He started down a narrow path that cleaved through a field of bramble and thorns, his minions following in a neat line.

The path went through archways of thorn and bramble, next to dried-out ponds and creeks and barren stone outcrops veined with strange black stone that felt like it was pulsing. Norn was never the one to be fascinated by or wonder about other dimensions... or anything else really...

Another clearing burst into view as Norn and his troupe passed under yet another bramble arch. It was wide and orange with dry grass, at the borders of the clearing were tall figures draped in flowing black robes with scythes in hands made out of parchement-yellow bone. Between the two of those prominent statues, still in the distance, was the structure. From where Norn was standing, it looked to be something of a unfinished structure with construction beams still visible. He needed to go there for a closer look.

When Norn and the minions stepped into the clearing, everything came to life. The fields of thorn, stone and the forest reshaped and swarmed all around them. The path behind Norn was swallowed by the thorn and bramble and would only be suicide to try and go back that way.

"Gnarl? Rose?" Norn called but got nothing. They weren't responding through the Tower Heart. The minions raised their weapons and were alert. The trees moved their branches to enclose the clearing into an inescapable dome that cast everything into darkness. Norn could see small dots up above where the canopy wasn't complete; could hear the trees grind and creak shut; could smell the rot that now envelops them; could taste fear in his mouth.

LIke dying stars, those dots of light disappeared. Suddenly pairs of deep, bland light ignited where Norn still vividly remembered those tall scythe-wielding statues were. Norn raised his left hand and let flame sprout in his palm. The flames cast light around him to reveal those robed figures far closer than they were before. He could see a yellow jawbone protrude beneath the cowl along with a hollow nose and life-less eye sockets with only burning evil within.

Hell hath no fury...?

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**The chapters will be short, a max to about 3k but there is a possibility for bigger ones. I hope you liked this short prologue and I will see you in the next chapter!  
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	2. And The Story Begins

Chapter 2

And The Story Begins...

The rumour spread like wildfire. Since it was about Norn, the Overlord that every prisoner knew off, made it even more urgent for Oberon to hear of this.

The elf, imprisoned in a tree just like in his former life, was placed before a stage that reenacted the dwarven invasion through satire, but never reached the third act because the fat dwarven king's pet, Rollie, was out-of-action with a little help from Oberon's ghostly kin. A glarring weakness is the Forgotten one's physical dependance.

He relies on servants to do his bidding, to be his hands, eyes and ears. Without them, it would be impossible for the god to manage his vast domain, even with his god-like powers. And Oberon has been exploiting said weakness to the fullest extent. With that knowledge, he was able to create his own network of spies in the prisons dotted across the barren wastelands under the blood-red sun, and the rumour about Norn reached him through those channels.

The rumour was disturbing. One prisoner heard two guards talking about how one of the prisoners-forced-soldier got killed when he was sent alone into another world. Oberon knew that the Fogotten preyed on worlds that were incapable to defend itself, and thus far has never found a weak enough one to conquer. Funnily enough, Norn wasn't the one to save their former world, but Oberon only heard snips about some strange empire that pushed back the Forgotten God's invasion. Oberon knew that Norn, thanks to his extensive knowledge of both warfare and magics, made a perfect candidate for excursion into different worlds. He didn't judge the man for complying since he was possibly under severe torture. Unbeknownst to everyone, Oberon had realised long ago that Norn was no other than the valiant knight who sacrificed himself to kill the past Overlord. Even now irony stung the elf.

Just when he thought that the ethereal elf was finished, the last sentence sent chills down Oberon's spine. It couldn't be a coincidence. The guards are whispering about a new servant that was described as a metal doll full of menace and malice. The guards and soldiers themselves are evil spirits of beings that were evil in life, and if a being that is worse than that exists in the service of the Forgotten God...

"What shall we do?" the spectre asked, his voice strangely piercing despite the loud shouts and screams that were rehearsed to perfection after repeating the two acts ad nauseam coming from the stage. Oberon found it torture to see it constantly repeated, the event that he could have stopped if he hadn't been so slothful. But in the end, the fury and passion brought on by the play was directed towards the torturer and Oberon's secret rebellion steadily blossomed into a wicked trap ready to be sprung.

And then Norn arrived and the plans had to be pushed back.

"Leave me be, I must think."

And with that dismissal, Oberon sunk into his tree to contemplate yet again how to adapt his plans to the new factors.

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A warden! He is stuck as a glorified prison guard for all of his dutiful service since the day he was plucked from the Mists into this world half a millenia ago. Malug thought that he had earned the position of right hand at the God's side, but he was nothing more than another servant! It seems that he won't know about the insurgency that is growing amongst the prisoners.

Malug swept a bony hand over a thick ledger of thin metal plates bound together by dry skin and leather. It opened at his command at the first page written in the native language of the world from where Malug's soul was banished from. Because of his souls power, he attained the reaper form on this plane of existance and thus was part of a higher echelon in God's system that was empty of any living servant. After serving for two centuries, Malug had found a limited way of traversing the Mists and contacting other worlds through a mirror effect. And then began the invasion of their first world.

Legions of slaves poured through the portals, and Malug witnessed God look at every one of them like they were his property. Malug could care less for God's petty desires, but he relied on the said god's benevolence and power to attain what he desires.

And now he was replaced by some mindless metal creature that came out of nowhere. It was so sudden that Malug couldn't have seen it coming no matter how powerful he might be. But perhaps his ledger might shine a light at this mystery. He could ask his fellow reapers, and lose all reputation that he has left after this debacle. No, he must rely on himself, like he always did.

Malug's ledger, in it's metal pages, contains all observations Malug had made during his time here, all five hundred years are stored in this one book. It was filled with Malug's memories and made it easy for Malug to review them. The ledger was infuriantingly empty of any mention of this metal creature. Malug suspected that perhaps the powerful slave going by the name of Norn has something to do with it.

Malug had found Norn rather particular and was intensly fascinated by the man's innate powers of magical manipulation. The impotent God had forced him to go to other worlds with a very creative use of the man's very own armor he had been captured in. An idea Malug thought was brilliant. The prisoner was severely hurt during the last short expedition and no one has seen him ever again. Except Physician Katar.

With mild satisfaction, Malug closed his ledger with a snap and floated out of his cold and empty stone chambers.

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The villagers turned prisoner were a sorry bunch. The emaciated citizens of the still-ruined Heaven's Peak comprised the majority of the new prisoner populace along with additions of villagers from Spree and other neighbouring regions. The new blood filled the empty cells where their previous owners expired under the glare of the blood-red sun above or down here in the darkness of solitude.

The proclaimed Zombie Hunter, Tina Lot, was among her fellow citizens but stood out like a sore thumb due to her healthy and tough form. Strong but wiry legs and arms let her almost tower above the half-dead and crooked men, women and children of Heaven's Peak. Two skeleton guards were assigned just for her and they made sure to undermine her pride at every turn. Tina found himself on the floor and on her knees and beaten more than once during the arduous trip to her cell deep down in the earth.

She spat blood and spittle right through the skeleton's eye socket when she was pushed into her cell. The bars clanged shut and the soothing light of their torches disappeared. But the noise of her people's shuffling feet, coughing and crying were somewhat calming. Here in the darkness, Tina could imagine herself back in Heaven's Peak in some dark corner away from the shambling corpses that wandered the streets. That horrible reality was easier to accept than the presence of this otherwordly dimension she found herself in. The skeletons chilled her blood.

They were pure evil, not the brutally simple automatons that Tina had slain and eaten countless times. Yes, she ate them and she wasn't ashamed of it. Unlike her, others couldn't bare to eat them and paid for it: they couldn't struggle anymore with nothing to sustain them. Months into the plague, Tina was the strongest person in the entire city, capable to fight for an entire day while her peers could barely lift a sword or pitchfork. Tina, the street urchin of sixteen years, found herself praised by the weak and sought by survivors across Heaven's Peak...

Tina grabbed hold of the bars and pulled. Despite their weathered appearance, they didn't look like they would give way any time soon. She gave up, slumped into a corner in the darkness as the sound of shuffling feet went away and got ready for a long wait.

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Katar was a sadist at best. And borderline masochistic at worst. Malug hoped he caught him at his best.

As his down-trodden luck would have it, Malug had stumbled into a sickening display of breaking bones: both Katar's and his 'patient's'. Katar was completely stripped of the standard hanging robes of a Reaper, letting yellow-white bone to show completely in all its horrible glory. The Reaper skeleton was nothing like a normal one. Their shape must come from God's weird perspective about internal structure as many bones were twisted into spirals that shouldn't be able to bend that way like they do while others are thick slabs. A long skirt of cartilage and bone sprouted from the pelvis, hiding the disfigured bones of the feet.

Malug stopped looking. He couldn't stand his own body, let alone somebody else's.

"Malug..." Katar's voice was full of pleasure. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

Katar's 'abode' was a derelict crypt from a past mirror attempt of a world far to potent for God's rather feeble forces. Malug was embarrassed to serve such a potent being that is absolutely ignorant and lacked any kind of leadership skills. The Reapers took care of those things for him.

Malug floated over to the table and swept away the dying man that looked more skeletal than anything off the table. The sickening crunch had somehow never bothered Malug for some reason. The blood under his skeletal plams was slick and still warm as Malug leaned onto the table with his hands and glared at his cowled reflection in the blood. "The puppet,"

"Ah..." Katar chuckled. "I do remember you being the Ancient's right hand. It ruffled quite a few bones when the thing replaced you so easily."

"Tell me something I don't know!" Malug shouted, swiping his hands to the side, spattering fresh blood across ancient stone walls. Katar crossed his arms and when Malug looked at him, he was back in the customary Reaper robe. "My tome makes no mention of the thing's existance! Not a word!"

"Perhaps it was hidden from you? Like it or not, even in these forms we are not infallible." Katar's words rang true and Malug couldn't help but calm down. A theory formed in his mind.

"You are implying that God is far cunning than he is letting on?"

Katar went to the dead man Malug had haphazardly pushed off the table and picked him up by the neck. He seemed to inspect the body with morbid curiosity. Then he flicked his wrist and all the flesh, organs and tissue was stripped off the now-remaining skeleton. It was a living white and Katar seemed pleased. And as if he hanged laundry, Katar hanged the complete skeleton onto a hook.

"It is only logical to assume a being as transcendal as the Ancient is cunning. Surely you think so, too."

"You haven't been with him as long as I have, Katar. This domain was nothing like it is now when I got here. In fact, God had placed me to be his right hand the moment I arrived." Malug procured his tome from the confines of his robes and inspected it once more for good measure. Just like last time...no record of the metal creature ever existing in all those five hundred years of Malug's service.

The heavy stone doors of the crypt suddenly slammed open against the weathered stone and a reaper hurriedly floated in and almost hit the table in his hurry. All reapers looked the same, same height, same robes.

"Master Malug! Master Katar! Finally I've found you."

Malug returned his tome to its place and faced the newcomer that reminded him why he was here in the first place. Norn...

"What is it?"

"You must see Master Zarast, quickly!"

Zarast was the most magically-attuned reaper and could reach through the Mists in search of worlds to conquer, a quality God treasured immensely. What could he sense to cause such alarm?

Malug and Katar followed the reaper and Malug gave Katar a worried look.

Zarast's tower was the tallest structure in this dimension and in no way threatens God's ego somehow. Malug had expected God would dispute building such a tall tower for a meager reaper, but God seems to value Zaraster more than his ego. The tower itself was a spire of molded stone with only two floors: the bottom where Zarast kept his chambers and the top from where the reaper scanned the Mists.

What met Malug's eyes was catastrophic. Zarast was laying unconscious on the floor with his guards dumbly staring at their master. Three more reapers surrounded the fallen reaper, and for once lost about what to do. Katar pushed away the guards on his path and started inspecting Zarast for the cause of the damage. Malug approached tenatively and lowered himself until he could see Zarast's skull have an expression of shock.

Zarast then sprung to life and grabbed Malug by the neck and pulled him until they were both smelling their rotten breaths.

"She is coming! She will destroy us all! She seeks vengeance! She seeks HIM!" Zaraster screamed and after that stopped being coherent. He spoke in his own language and visibly shaking. Katar suddenly pulled his hands back and kept them close to his chest. Malug looked at the reaper in confusion when his attention was taken by a bright glow.

The black cloth of Zarast's robe was dissolving into smoke, revealing even more light. Soon the robe was gone entirely to reveal a slowly charring skeleton of a reaper. The charring was spreading from a thin shard of what looked to be pure light lodged in Zarast's ribcage. In mere moments the reaper was entirely burnt and turned to ash. The golden light fell onto the floor with a soft clack and rolled towards Katar.

Katar jumped and stayed in the air, far away from the shard. Malug watched it come to a stop before registering that Zarast had just died, maybe his very soul was burnt into ashes. He took a bunch of cloth and started for the shard. Katar landed in front of him and pushed him back.

"Are you insane?! Who knows what kind of range it has!"

"Then what do you propose?" Malug knew he was shell shocked and not thinking properly, but why wasn't he stopping? Why couldn't he take control?

"I think the puppet is the best one to handle it." Katar replied and took the pile out of his hands and tossed them at the shard with no reaction.

"This is worrying."

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**A short one, once again. I intend to slowly enlarge them to 5k at most as this will not be as dedicated a work as World Anew will be. But do not worry, this story will, or I intend to, grow into an interesting story.**

**Let me know what you think of the characters and don't forget to leave a review if possible!**


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